


The Outlaw Princes

by maiNuoire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bandits & Outlaws, F/M, M/M, Prince Derek Hale, Prince Stiles Stilinski, Rating May Change, Royalty AU, Tags May Change, but it's a secret shhh, but with hearts of gold, the Hale Pack are criminals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 08:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19390729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: Inspired by the prompt: "A prince(ss) runs away because of an arranged marriage, befriends a gang of outlaws, falls in love with one of them, only to find out he is actually the prince (s)he was supposed to marry, who also ran away.





	The Outlaw Princes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hi, hello! Long time no see!
> 
> I caught some inspiration, so I'm holding onto it while I can!
> 
> I have no real idea where this fic is going in terms of who might show up/what misadventures the gang is going to get up to, etc., but I hope you'll have fun finding out with me!
> 
> I plan to keep all the updates short, so that'll hopefully help keep momentum going, but I've got no real schedule planned at the moment. Please send encouraging thoughts!
> 
> This first bit is a double installment, since the first part was only posted on my tumblr. Enjoy!

Stiles had been traveling for weeks, thankfully successfully avoiding being recognized, but he was growing tired of being alone. Growing up in a castle, there was always someone around to talk to, or play a game with; apparently, being on the run was a lonely existence.

He was starting to wonder, in his more desperate moments, if perhaps being forced into marriage wouldn't be so bad after all; at least he'd have people around him again.

The train wasn't due to leave for another hour, and he was sitting in the station half hiding behind a magazine while he indulged in some quality people watching when he saw them. There were five of them, all wearing coordinated leather jackets and boots, and giving off serious "don't mess with us" vibes, and all unfairly beautiful. The one who seemed to be in charge was probably the most attractive man he'd ever seen, all confident stance and precisely trimmed beard, mischief glittering in his eyes.

He tried not to stare too obviously, but it was hard to look away.

When one of the group, a gorgeous blonde with soft curls and a predatory grin, turned towards one of her companions enough to reveal an intricate patch on the back of her jacket--a wolf in profile, howling at a full moon--Stiles couldn't help but gasp a little too loudly. He didn't know he'd gone far enough from home to reach the territory of the famous criminal gang known as The Wolves.

He'd always found them fascinating, the stories of their heists pulling him in like a mystery novel. Their activities all seemed to have an altruistic angle to them, especially over the last two months, leading many to speculate that there'd been a change in leadership among them. Animals meant for slaughter or to be euthanized freed from facilities all over Beacon County; criminals found roughed up and bound in front of the local sheriff's department, proof of their crimes in a folder marked with a deep red wolf print. All of it was exciting in a way that made Stiles dream about joining them in their illegal adventures.

Only now, with the infamous gang right in front of him, and all five of them looking at him with intense scrutiny, he finds his heart racing and his all but forgotten magazine shaking slightly in his trembling fingers.

  
  


_________Ch 2________

Embarrassingly, Stiles must lose a few moments in staring at their leader, because suddenly he finds himself bracketed by the stunning blonde woman and an equally attractive man with softly curled blond hair and a disarming grin; he’s pretty certain that humans can’t move that quickly, so he must have been staring far too intently. He hopes he didn’t drool.

“Hello, handsome,” the woman practically purrs at him. She’s intimidating, but her eyes sparkle with mischief and something softer, so his answering grin is genuine.

“Don’t scare him off yet, Erica,” the man croons from his right, making Stiles jump a little, having briefly forgotten he was there. His voice is smooth and teasing, and something about him makes Stiles want to befriend him aggressively.

The guy smiles at him, and it adds a little bit of danger, and an equal measure of adorable to Stiles’ assessment of him. With a little tilt of his head, the man encourages Stiles to look forward, and when he does, he finds the other three Wolves are standing there, watching.

Their leader is directly in front of Stiles, arms crossed casually over his chest, drawing attention to the curve of his muscles and the breadth of his shoulders. He wears a grin similar to his companions in all its cockiness, but his is infinitely playful, and Stiles isn’t entirely certain that’s a good thing. He imagines that in that moment he feels much like a very curious bird does when it meets a particularly clever cat--or, Wolf, he supposes.

The other two Wolves, a tall, dark skinned man with a serenely neutral expression, and a guy with meticulously styled sandy brown hair and a very expensive pair of jeans stand at either side of the man in charge, set ever so slightly behind him in a lazy triangle.

It’s a very attractive bit of geometry that Stiles has found himself in, though he’s certainly missing some key details of the equation.

“Hey,” the head Wolf--Alpha? Were those real, or only things that happened in captivity? Stiles was definitely feeling a little boxed in--said, his voice far more gentle than Stiles had been expecting. “Since you’re making friends with my friends, I figured I ought to say hi; I’m Derek,” he continues, smooth as honey and pulling off sincerity remarkably well considering he was an actual criminal. 

An outlaw. The  _ head _ outlaw of an actual  _ gang _ of outlaws.

Stiles swallowed audibly. Years of etiquette classes and state dinners with visiting royals and royal-adjacents had instilled a fairly immutable sense of manners in Stiles, so he couldn’t just  _ not _ respond. But there would be no bowing or offered handshake, despite the way his palm itched to carry through with the tradition.

“I’m Stiles, pleasure to meet you,” he replies, grateful for the oft-used childhood nickname that had so far allowed him to keep his identity a secret; he is sure that if he’d had to come up with a false name on the spot, he’d fail miserably in the face of all of Derek’s… everything.

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” Derek says, a bit of practiced formality weaving through the flirtatiousness and catching Stiles off-guard. Derek must notice it too, because when he continues, it’s gone, leaving only a teasing heat behind. “So, Stiles, what brings you to Beacon?”

Stiles' eyes dart quickly to his train ticket where it sticks slightly out of his bag, which is sitting next to his right leg, practically in line with where Derek is standing. When he looks back at Derek, it’s clear he’s noticed. There’s a bit of a challenge in Derek’s eyes, and though he was raised to be a diplomat, Stiles is not one to be cowed. 

Or, to think before he speaks to handsome criminals, apparently, because when he opens his mouth, it isn’t any of his practiced answers to that question that come out, but the truth. ”I’m on the run.”

He wishes he could scoop the words up and shove them back in his mouth, but Derek and his gang all smile even wider at that. Derek’s smirk is sharp and wicked and shockingly  _ pleased  _ at Stiles’ response, and he sounds like he’s sharing a secret when he says “Excellent.” Stiles doesn’t have time to recover, because then Derek asks “Have you reached your destination, then?” as he glances at Stiles’ ticket again.

When Stiles answers “I don’t know”, he tries to refrain from sounding breathless, or conspiratorial, or blowing his cover by revealing too much. He manages the latter, but the rest may be a lost cause now that he’s caught in the Wolves’ orbit. 

Somehow, Derek’s grin sharpens further. “Perhaps you’ll give us the day to convince you?”

“You know,” Stiles says, still trying to get his bearings and having lost a bit of his sense somewhere in the last few hundred lonely miles, “You guys are the weirdest damn Welcoming Committee I’ve ever heard of.”

He’s rewarded with the sound of laughter from all five Wolves, and a flash of what is probably Derek’s genuine smile.

“We’re definitely the hottest, though,” Erica asserts, looping her arm through Stiles’ as she stands, half dragging him along. 

Now that he’s standing, Stiles realizes Derek is suddenly very close, and he swoops in and effortlessly shoulders Stiles’ oversized suitcase and his bag of essentials, he adds, “You have no idea, Stiles,” with a laugh that Stiles can feel wash over him. 

The curly haired man throws an arm around Stiles’ shoulder as Derek and the other two turn in almost perfect unison, “I’m Isaac, by the way. Welcome to Beacon.”

His breath tickles Stiles’ ear, and he shivers. Isaac and Erica both laugh, and Erica’s grip on his arm tightens briefly, almost like a comfort. “I think you’re gonna like it just fine here, Stiles,” she says confidently, bumping her hip against Stile’ and winking when their eyes meet. 

Stiles is pretty sure she’s right, and he is absolutely positive he’s in way over his head.

**Author's Note:**

> The reason this fic got a part 2, was because people were so excited about it, so please, if you've enjoyed it, let me know!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/poetry-protest-pornography) and maybe tell me (gently) to get back to my WIPs!


End file.
